


Beyond Your Command

by leradny



Series: Here's Looking at You [2]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, Swearing, fiery explosion, sort of, traught - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-18 08:13:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7307047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leradny/pseuds/leradny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Universe; Traught. Artemis never went out with Wally, but with Nightwing instead. She never fully retired, either. After her first semester at Princeton, she comes back to the team for the summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beyond Your Command

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this piece to seek catharsis from the death of my own brother, which is why it was put on hiatus three years ago. Reading this and thinking about future chapters is slightly less painful now, and I have some intention of finishing it, which is why I'm republishing here. But there is no outline or plan.
> 
> There's very little Traught in the beginning, and I apologize.

> _Whither are they vanished?_
> 
> _Into the air, and what seemed corporal melted, as breath into the wind._

\- - -

Once all the conjugated verbs begin running together, and her human rights classes feel like the same shit on different days, and the debate team contemplates revoking her membership after she makes too many people cry, Artemis can’t wait for June. Especially since there’s no archery range at the school, and she has to go fifteen miles out of her way just to shoot. She has no car, and the first time she tries the bus, it takes three hours.

Riflework feels like cheating. And Artemis doesn’t like how she can’t just reuse ammo. She quits after she hits ace accuracy in the first half hour, and too many guys start hitting on her.

Since she’s always wanted to get a hand in melee combat, Artemis takes up fencing with the college team. It is not at all like the iai-do and ken-do her mother began before being paralyzed, all coldblooded deliberation and slow, long cuts which Jade preferred more. Fencing is just multiple variations on stabbing someone with something long and thin.

Then she joins the equestrian club since she’s heard it’s heavy work. Which would be fine if the horses were willing to work with her. Since she’s strong enough to keep from being bucked off up to a certain point, and not intimidated, she’s stuck with a snappish blue roan mare named Yseult. Apparently Artemis spooks the gentle ones.

The Atom calls with an offer to join the Justice League, now that she’s of age. But Artemis wants to ease back into the superhero gig. After getting her hand cut open, then going to school, she feels rusty.

She goes back to the team.

 - - -

There are lots of new people. M'gann introduces her new little brother, Garfield, who Artemis knows by proxy. She claps him on the shoulder. “I’ve heard so much about you my ears almost fell off. Nice to finally see you, kid.”

Even Wally’s back. Artemis smirks at him. “Thought you retired.”

“Well, I heard you were back on the team and I felt a little left out.”

“I thought you were studying in California.” He raises an eyebrow, trying to guess where Artemis is going. “Because you don’t look like you’ve been out in the California sun.”

“Oh my god.” Wally plugs his ears. “It’s not that sunny over there in winter, I did not leave my heart in San Francisco, I did not score with a dozen tan blonde chicks in bikinis, I did not pick up surfing, I did not go to Vegas, and I did not turn vegetarian!”

“I don’t understand anything you just said,” Connor remarks over Zatanna’s laughter.

“I got to Wally first,” the magician says. “He’s not talking to me anymore.” Zatanna looks behind Artemis and swirls her hand in the air. “Speaking of people who don’t see the sun.”

Someone clears his throat behind her and Artemis turns to see Robin, a little gawkier than usual. Actually, a lot gawkier. “Hey! Robin!” This feels disturbingly familiar. “Are you on a step or something?”

He scowls at her while Zee tackles Artemis from behind. Once Artemis flails out of the hug, Kaldur introduces Tula and Garth, beaming. That’s as emotional as she’s ever seen him.

“Oh, the times, they are a-changing,” Artemis says. Then she pivots on her heel and punches Robin in the shoulder.

“Ow!” He rubs the sore spot and glares. “What was that for?”

“Your birthday.” Everyone stares. “No, I don’t know what it is! But I probably missed it and you’re the only one of the old guard I didn’t say it to. Your little growth spurt reminded me. So, happy birthday.”

Robin squints through his eyemask. Then, he smirks. “Who’s calling who part of the _old_ guard?”

Artemis sidesteps his punch.

“Too slow, Boy Wonder!” Wally jeers. “And she’s rusty!”

A month, and then Batman collects Robin. Artemis waves. Nightwing says, “Be careful,” and the kid grumbles a little before waving back. Artemis is impressed. He actually showed affection to Nightwing. Maybe she shouldn’t call him a kid anymore.

\- - -

A day passes. It’s not unusual until Nightwing disappears, then reappears with his face drawn tight around the corners.

“Kaldur?” he asks. “I need the team’s help. Now, if possible. Batman and Robin aren’t answering me.”

“Of course,” Kaldur says. “However, I do not know Gotham as intimately as you do. For this mission, I suggest that you take the lead.”

Nightwing hesitates. “I could just… give directions or…”

“Just take it, bird-brain,” Wally tells him. “It’s personal.”

If Robin’s grown up enough to show a hint of affection, Nightwing has grown up a lot from that gung-ho kid he used to be. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he pulls up a map of Gotham.

“Kid Flash, circle Coventry and the upper east side in case someone needs you. Artemis, we’re starting at the Hill and sweeping east through North Gotham. M'gann and Beast Boy, stay in the Bioship and comb City Hall through to the upper west side, especially with telepathy. Drop off Zatanna and Raquel at the Tricorner. You two are going from there to Port Adams. Then leave Kaldur, Tula, Garth, La'gann at the shore.”

“Dividing the shore among ourselves?” Kaldur says.

“Exactly. Everyone ready?”

Garfield coughs and raises his hand. “Can I get a translation?”

“Yeah, my Gotham’s a little rusty.” Wally raises his hand, too. “Sorry, bud.”

Zatanna and Raquel look at each other, then chorus, “Us, too.”

Nightwing sighs. “Once we get out of the zeta beam, ask me or Artemis to point you in the right direction.”

\- - -

As they file out of the zeta tube, Garfield and M'gann shiver through the mind link.

Is Gotham really that dark? Artemis looks up. Smog and skyscrapers contribute to the black of the night. It’s home to Artemis–and not quite supposed to be. But it’s perversely comforting nonetheless. In Princeton, she had to find a map of the sky. Dizzying, endless constellations. She understood agoraphobia for the first time.

 _Are you okay, Miss M?_ Nightwing asks.

 _Something feels–_ M'gann cuts herself off. _Never mind. It’s fine_.

\- - -

Walking through North Gotham means every breath comes in oily with cold smog and colder brine. Nightwing blends into the shadows with only a sliver of his eye mask and the cut of his pale profile through the darkness. They do this for two hours, stooping at every stain on the ground, every bit of scrap fabric. Checking in after twenty minutes gets nothing from the rest of the team, either. When M'gann brushes into range, Artemis hears her calling for Robin. It makes her feel colder than the Gotham night. Especially since there’s no response.

Finally, Artemis picks up a glittering shard of what looks like a mirror, and brushes the rest of the pile into her hand.

_What do you think?_

Nightwing nods. _Team, Artemis and I have a lead._

 _Finally,_ Raquel thinks.

The pieces come faster after that.

A torn corner off Robin’s cape, heading towards the boardwalk. Nightwing tells everyone.

Rubber shavings, which Nightwing swears is from the specialized sole from Robin’s boots, again pointing them to the boardwalk.

Artemis looks at the chained gates to the boardwalk. Something about the broken eyemask bothers her. How they shone out so brightly in the dark. After they find a chipped birdarang, Artemis stops. “Nightwing.”

“What?”

“Don’t you think it’s weird that there wasn’t any blood on those glass pieces?” She waves the birdarang.

Nightwing twists. “We’ve been going in a straight line for–” He swears. “The past ten minutes!”

“Ten whole minutes?” A giggle rises from the empty boardwalk.

Nightwing stands in front of Artemis, yantok sticks at the ready. She isn’t even offended. She’s a distance fighter. It’s not like more distance will stop her.

“I guess I’m spoiled,” the voice goes on.

Artemis takes aim as a figure pops up from under the ticket booth’s desk. Nightwing waves an arm at her bow just under the arrow, as the newcomer strolls out wearing a suit and a grin that Artemis recognizes mostly from the papers. Even when her mother was still a criminal, her parents steered cleer of the Joker.

“Batsy took the car here, after all…”

“Where are they?” Nightwing asks. He’s strained, but Artemis feels like shooting the Joker in the kneecap. So.

“I’ll give you a hint.”

The Joker waves. A car engine revvs from the street, then comes screeching at them. Artemis shoots out the tires and it keels left before stopping.

“Artemis, search it!” Nightwing runs in another direction. “Where are they? _Where are they?!_ ”

She takes out a lockpick and jimmies the trunk, then ducks as soon as she remembers this is the Joker they’re dealing with. But nothing flies out at her. Looking through the back windows reveals nothing in the back seat. Cautiously rounding to the front, she also finds nothing in the front seat. But there is something on the steering wheel that jiggles back and forth with the tires every now and then.

Spray painted on the front bumper is the word MINE.

A five-seat sedan with more beige than a golfer’s pants doesn’t seem like a car the Joker would own. Artemis takes a deep breath and uses her detective skills. The Joker can and will lie, but a hint is a hint. And if it doesn’t make sense, it’s more likely to be true–as the trail of evidence proved.

“This car is the Joker’s,” Artemis says out loud. “This car is mine.”

No.

She puts on the team link, and thinks it for double emphasis. “Team, our lead was wrong! Batman and Robin are not at the boardwalk, they’re at Cape Carmine!”

“Are you sure?” Kaldur asks.

“ _It was the Joker!_ ”

“Miss Martian, collect everyone and head to the northeast of Gotham. We will meet Nightwing and Artemis at the cape.”

“Nightwing!” Artemis waits for an answer. “Cape Carmine!”

A crackle. “I’ll be there.”

\- - -

Nightwing catches up with her before she gets to the Cape, despite the twenty minute head start she’d gotten on him, and Artemis sees his face is damp.

When they get to the Cape, the ring of abandoned warehouses sprawl out before them, left over from when Gotham was small enough for the Cape’s old ports to serve. What little composure Artemis has slips away.

“Shit, no!” She buries her eyes in the palm of her scarred hand. “I should have looked for something else in that damn car! How are we going to find them!”

“It’s okay.” They’ve flipped emotions. Nightwing puts a hand on her shoulder. “You got us here. Just look for a new lock.”

Yes. That would be suitably suspicious. “This would be easier if the team–”

Artemis stops as the pressure and warmth lift away. She knows that he’s disappeared. A deep breath, then she moves forward through the row of warehouses on instinct. It was nice of Nightwing to take the one to the side. He’s a different leader from Kaldur.

\- - -

_Team! Warehouse sixty-eight!_

_Okay! We just have to pick up Garth and Kaldur!_

Artemis is almost to the three-hundreds. She scales the nearest warehouse, shoots a rope across to the other end, and ziplines. This is how she’s gotten roughly a hundred warehouses searched without running herself into the ground. Wally could, but he’s probably refueling in the ship. Artemis could use water. She could use rest. But Robin and Batman have been missing for two (or three?) days now. That counts as a Gotham vacation. Artemis can still walk. Therefore, she can look.

Something sizzles in her hands as Nightwing screams and everyone panics.

_Nightwing, what’s wrong?_

_What happened to your hand?_

“Nightwing?!” Artemis yells, sprinting down the sixties row.

“I can’t pick the lock, it’s charged!” His gloves are charred and he’s shaking. A burnt piece of metal with the blackened shreds of his right glove is on the ground. Artemis reaches for his arm, but he pulls away. “Shoot out the door.”

Artemis picks a grenade. “Get away.”

He hesitates, then moves behind her. Artemis shoots, and the door opens. They run in, and stop at seeing their own distorted reflections.

“What the fuck?” Artemis asks. She can’t bring herself to lower her bow, even though it’s just herself in a funhouse mirror.

“Shh.”

A steady, soft noise under the echoes of her yell and Nightwing’s hushing. Like dripping water. Nightwing lights a flare and behind them, over the door, is a backwards clock, changing by the second.

“No, no! We tripped a _bomb!_ Team, where are you?”

_Over the middle of the city, heading to Kaldur._

_I shall make my own way there–_

_No time,_ Nightwing thinks. _Even with that. Except maybe Wally…_

_Nightwing?_

“Robin!”

_Where’s… Batman?_

“He’s–” Nightwing runs. “Where are you? You’re going to be fine!”

_I heard…_

“Robin! Robin!”

Nightwing grabs a chained door and forges through about five seconds of a sizzling sound before Artemis sees light crackling down the chains and somehow his bones. Or maybe–

“It’s okay, buddy, I’m here!”

“I’ll–” Artemis draws an arrow, then remembers what happened last time. “Nightwing! We need to find the bomb and defuse it!”

He shakes his head and, shaking, reaches for the doors again. Artemis drops her arrow and grabs Nightwing’s arm before he can finish electrocuting himself. “I can’t leave him!”

“I don’t know how to defuse a bomb!”

_They put up… this… clock or something?_

“No, it’s fine.” Nightwing brings out a screwdriver and taps the hinges. More lightning crackles, but stops at the handle. It’s slowly being covered in red. His hands are bleeding. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll save Batman together.”

_Ha._

Artemis holds her bow at the ready as Nightwing unscrews the hinge, lifting the screwdriver every time pops of electricity threaten to blunt the edge.

_Hey… Blue Bird._

“What, jay-bird?”

_Thanks._

A phantom sensation trickles down Artemis’ cheek. She wipes her eyes to feel nothing. But she can’t see Nightwing’s face, and his voice betrays nothing. “Haven’t saved you yet, boy wonder.”

_For… trying._

The blood drains out of Artemis’ face as she realizes Robin’s only used the mind-link, but he still sounds like he’s resting after each word. Nightwing shakes his head, hard, and continues working, jolting, with gloves that are falling apart and burnt hands. “You’re going to be fine.”

Three ticks.

“Robin?”

Five.

Eight.

“Robin.”

Twelve seconds.

No response.

Nightwing drops the screwdriver and pounds on the door, missing the electrified wires by a hair, leaving a smear of red. “Jason!”

Artemis sprints and grabs him. The doors are iron, and electrified, and no matter what armor he has, Nightwing will break something trying to get in, or fry himself.

“Kid Flash!” she says over the comm. “Warehouse sixty-eight, now!”

“Thirty seconds!”

“No, no, Jason, no!”

“What?” Artemis stops for a second, and Nightwing wrenches out of her grip to get back to the room, instead of a safe distance away. His hands are too slick for her to grab onto. “No–Nightwing!”

“M'gann, dropping down!” Wind rushes into the comm link.

“Jason, talk to me!”

That’s Robin’s real name. They barely have enough time to run out of the warehouse at their top speeds. If she doesn’t do something, they’ll both be–if she just leaves Robin there–maybe– “Nightwing, we have to–”

“Please, no, he’s my brother! _He’s my brother! **I’ll do any–**_ ”

The floor shudders under their feet.

Artemis blinks, and in her veins, adrenaline surges. Nightwing’s struggles become fainter, though he still looks like he’s giving everything he has at the doors. The right hinge turns orange, lighting the house, as he lifts a fist one more time.

Before Nightwing can learn what grabbing molten metal after touching raw voltages feels like, Artemis grabs him and starts dragging, all the way back out the front of the mirrored warehouse. The wind from the explosion powers them both into an alley between the houses on the other side. Shrapnel digs little pinpricks into her back, like a slowed fall of hail, but whatever makes it across is nothing serious, nothing that hits the spine or between the ribs into her lungs, or any organs.

She should wear proper armor, a voice tells her. It is her last thought for a while.

\- - -

_–almost there! **Jesus Christ!** I saw–oh, god, hang on–_

_M'gann!_

_No, no, no! Please, no!_

_Artemis, Nightwing! Are you there?_

_Garfield, don’t listen!_

_Why can’t I–_

_Is Robin with you?! Batman? Anyone?_

_Zee, I’m trying the comms._

“Nightwing? Artemis? Are you there?”

_I think they found Batman and Robin, but then–then–_

_Kaldur, they have not responded on the mind link, either._

_There are many reasons why! We cannot leave them for dead!_

_Give me that!_

“Artemis! You answer me, right now!”

_Nightwing? Artemis? Please, answer._

“Aqualad to Nightwing or Artemis! _Do you read me?_ ”

_Jesus Christ! Four people–_

\- - -

No. That’s wrong.

Artemis taps her temple. “Artemis!”

A chorus of “Artemis” rings out, vocally or telepathically.

“Get the team–!” She was yelling. Her throat scratches. Artemis swallows and it feels like a dozen knives prickling down to her stomach. Her bones are aching. “We’re going back to Mount Justice.”

“Where is Nightwing?”

“Alive.”

“Have you found Robin or Batman?”

She thinks for a moment. Then she shuts the comm off.

\- - -

Artemis turns to the dark shape in a corner of the alley. “Nightwing?”

Everything he had went into those doors after all. He’s shaking, clutching himself around the head. She can’t tell if he’s hit his head or not. Artemis expects to find tears as she kneels, roughly level with Nightwing’s eyes. But there aren’t any when she skims his cheek just underneath the mask, with the knuckle of her bad hand. Just blood from his hands. He is breathing, barely, but no answer comes.

“Nightwing,” Artemis repeats.

Nothing. No change in position, no twitch of forehead muscles like he’s flicked his eyes up. Artemis scrapes closer on broken glass and god knows what else. Her kneepads protect her from bullets and blunt impacts, not sharp things. But her tetanus shot’s current, so she doesn’t give a shit. She puts her hands against Nightwing’s face, and then leans forward until she’s slid her elbows over his shoulders.

“Dick.”

He looks up.

But a voice behind them carries through the alley: “How did you know that?”

Without looking, Artemis knows that Batman is hurt. But she looks anyway, and wishes she hadn’t. Batman is holding onto the wall. The figure she had been taught to fear throughout her childhood–the figure she possibly fears even more in her adulthood–the Batman can barely stand.

“I… I figured it out. He didn’t tell me, I swear. I–”

“Get dressed,” Batman orders them. Meaning in civilian clothes. A long breath, and then another. His chest heaves. “Artemis.” It’s neutral enough, but he reaches into his utility belt and Artemis flinches on instinct. “Call this in.” He stretches out his hand. Now, Artemis expects some sort of ultra-sophisticated phone, but instead a handful of change clinks over her scarred palm.

“I… I’ll have to call and then get to Mount Justice–”

“In five minutes, you will receive a change of clothes.” He turns around. Without the support of the alley, he limps slowly towards the burning building, shedding his cape as he walks. “From Batman.”

Third person? What the fuck?

“Please, don’t–” Dick steps forward. Artemis supports him but does not walk forward. “Dad, don’t leave.”

“I’m not.”

“Kid Flash is here,” Artemis starts, ignoring… the identifier. “He can–”

“Not necessary.”

Never, in Artemis’ wildest dreams, did she think that she would see Batman taking off his cowl. It clatters in one solid piece onto the ground and it isn’t reassuring at all. Dick must feel the same way as Artemis, because his breathing edges into hyperventilation.

“But this is my fault! It’s my–”

“You have… to follow through… with the rest of the plan.” Batman turns back and Artemis almost looks away from his uncovered eyes. There’s red trailing out of his hair. Black hair. Artemis wonders if he is finally going to show some emotion, but instead he says: “Artemis. Call it in.”

Artemis heads to the nearest phone. An order’s an order, especially from–

“Dick.”

She can’t help but look. Batman and his uncovered eyes lock onto Nightwing’s eyemask. Not a word passes between them. Then Batman removes the last of his armor to reveal an undershirt and nondescript gray running pants. Turning, Batman lumbers into the still burning warehouse like a lion that’s been flayed alive, and once more becomes a silhouette.

Dick crawls on his hands and knees to Batman’s discarded cape on the ground, clutching one corner like a blanket. Artemis goes back and reaches out, but he shakes her hand off.

With stiff, robotic moves, Nightwing takes the cape in both hands. Artemis half expects him to put it on, which somehow cuts straight into her bones with fresh adrenaline. Nightwing is skilled, but fear was never even close to his style, let alone Batman-level terror.

Instead, like most of the things that have happened tonight, Nightwing surprises her. He presses some button and the cape stiffens into a backpack. She did not know it could do that. Nightwing puts the discarded armor and cowl in. Shrugs the pack over one shoulder. Then–then–

Artemis shakes her head, hard, as she witnesses Nightwing walking away. To somewhere unknown, arms barely swinging and head forced straight ahead. She’s never seen Dick (Nightwing, _Nightwing_ ) just walk off instead of disappearing, has she? But she’s never seen Batman walk off. Artemis has never heard Batman use fucking _third person_ , or take off his cowl–but maybe it wasn’t third person. Maybe he’s–

Maybe Dick is still–

Orders.

She has orders.

Artemis heads back to the payphone. If Dick was moving the way she feels, Artemis must look even worse. She has to shape her mouth carefully in order to speak a semicoherent address, into the phone gripped by a wobbling hand. Once Artemis finishes the call, a pointed shadow spills onto the sidewalk. She turns to see… someone.

It looks like Batman.

“Here.”

It sounds like Batman.

But, as he hands her the pair of ripped jeans she’s been meaning to throw out, and a plain white tank top, Artemis can tell that this is not the Batman. The one she was just talking to. It doesn’t look like Nightwing has taken on a spare cape and cowl, either. No, this is not a Gothamite at all. Like being from a dysfunctional family–Artemis knows. The shadows clinging to him don’t stick.

Artemis changes as fast as she can, throws herself against the ground so they don’t question why she didn’t duck under cover, then hands her costume to Not-Batman, who deposits it somewhere when she blinks. The firefighters and policemen arrive right after she’s changed. Apparently someone else called first.

“Gordon,” Not-Batman says. “Eyewitness.”

Even though it’s not Batman, she shrinks into his shoulder as all eyes turn to her. Suddenly Artemis realizes her knees are bleeding through her jeans. She’s out on the street, sleeveless tank top, at three in the morning. She is young, and blonde, and covered in dirt. In the boonies. There is only one thing that comes to mind.

Nothing for a lady to do but protest too much, Artemis thinks. She’s only relieved that she came to the conclusion first.

The paramedics give Artemis a blanket. Its shadow makes her think Batman’s cape is still on the ground and for some insane reason the tears come. But no one asks.

\- - -

“I’m Renee,” the officer says. “What’s your name?”

“I…” Artemis can’t think. “Sasha.” Really? She doesn’t even look remotely Russian. But then, she doesn’t look Greek, either… Who named her, Paula or Lawrence? Probably Paula.

“Okay, Sasha. You want coffee?” Artemis shakes her head. “Hot water?”

And an aspirin, but–Artemis nods, and Officer Montoya heads out. Artemis stares at the window, which she knows damn well is only pretending to be a mirror. First thing Lawrence taught her. Don’t let anything slip. Sadly, this means she can’t glare into it and hope the others can feel the heat. Nothing is what it looks like tonight. Not her. Not Batman. Not even a fucking piece of glass. That’s Gotham for you.

Renee slides back into the room and deposits the cup in front of her. “Well. You were there. What happened?”

“I was walking home…”

She was there when Nightwing kicked at the doors, when Nightwing cried and fought to keep her from dragging him to safety. (Or, away from his family. Can she blame him for struggling? He actually likes them most of the time.)  She was there when two stretchers rolled out, not even knowing that they were carrying Gotham’s Dark Knight and the Boy Wonder. Did they have blankets over them, or did they have oxygen masks? She glimpsed an arm. But she doesn’t remember–

“Walking home. From…” Artemis stares at Renee, who gazes back calmly. “Work.”

Renee refrains from letting any judgement show on her face.

Artemis swallows. “Please don’t tell my mom.”

“It’s okay,” Renee assures her. “You’ll be anonymous.”

“The place…” Almost off-handedly, her brain tosses out the fact that being a whore would be the least of Paula’s worries. Everyone in North Gotham has heard the explosion, or from someone who has. “I don’t remember what time it was.”

“Your call came in at 2:41 a.m.,” Renee says. “We’d already gotten one in the general area. The address helped.”

“Right. Okay.” Artemis drinks. “I’m sorry… I did–I didn’t see who did it.” It was the Joker. Word will get around. “I just saw… the whole thing crack apart. And I turned and ran, s-so…”

“Wiring enough C2 to blow up a warehouse doesn’t happen overnight,” Renee says. “Don’t you worry about that.”

“I know there was someone in there,” Artemis says. Robin. Jason. Batman-Bruce Wayne. She wipes her eyes. Pretends to be untrained at detective work, grabbing at simple clues. Obvious. “You don’t blow up an empty warehouse in the middle of the night. I saw the ambulance–”

“You’re right.” Renee pats her hand. “But that’s all I can say until the victims have been identified.”

Jason. And Dick’s dad. Bruce Wayne. Maybe there were more. Would the Joker think it a waste of ammo to blow up a warehouse with only two people in it? Probably not.

“Victims? How many?”

“We can’t tell you.”

Yes. They have plans. But she can at least guess at the police’s plans, even if they’re annoying as shit.

“Why not?” Artemis snaps.

“I just said,” Renee says patiently. “We haven’t identified them. And we’re still searching the rubble for more.”

“Oh.”

Because, no matter how insanely fitting it might be for the Joker to go overkill, there might still be more. More people that _they couldn’t save_.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry. I didn’t–”

“Don’t be.”

Artemis didn’t even know Batman had a plan for… something like tonight. Decoys and everything. Coils within coils. The reason why people fear him is clear now.

“I’m sorry,” Artemis says. She wipes her eyes. “I didn’t see… I can’t tell you anything else.”

And if they take it to mean that she doesn’t _know_ anything else… Well, that’s their problem. Thus leaves Sasha, who no one really believes on the name, downtrodden Gotham girl, anonymous witness to a horrible scene. No one the wiser. Artemis wonders what it’s like to live in Metropolis where the hero is unmasked and invulnerable. Where lying is not like breathing.

\- - -

Paula is waiting in the living room. She takes one look, then holds her arms out. Artemis lays her head on her mother’s lap like a kid.

“Vì dầu cầu ván đóng đinh, cầu tre lắc lẻo,” Paula chants. “Gầp gềnh khó đi.”

She was never a singer. Lawrence whistled ‘Sitting on the Dock’ when cleaning his weapons and Artemis bets he still does. Just because Artemis remembers this from her childhood, when Paula could still walk, does not mean her mother didn’t make it up. Then again, Rock-a-bye Baby has been passed down for generations and it is even worse. This one is just a lesson of sorts: _Imagine walking on a wooden bridge with nails/It is as hard as walking on a shaky bamboo bridge._

Cold comfort. But Artemis has had enough fire for the night.

“I gave Batman your clothes,” Paula says. Meaning he knocked. Or he simply wasn’t trying to be stealthy. “I heard what happened.”

“It was too late.” Artemis falls into Vietnamese. It’s broken, but her English would probably be the same. “They got one over on Batman. How could I…” A sob breaks out of her. “The whole team and Batman and we couldn’t even save a little boy.”

“He will always be young, now,” Paula says.

\- - -

Artemis doesn’t sleep.

She heads to the zeta beam. Still in the same dirty jeans. She goes to Mount Justice. There, she finds Superman standing in front of the team, eyes brimming. There, knowledge hits Artemis like shrapnel.

_It was him._

The Atom’s the current leader and would logically know first. Black Canary and Red Tornado are the regulars for the team, but they are not standing with Superman. What can he be doing here alone? Unless they just thought he could break the news best, as Batman’s best friend. He might have insisted. That might be the cover. Even Artemis might believe it herself.

All of the heads in the room turn to Artemis, and stay on her. A few faces are twisted with concern, most are wet, others angry, still others confused. Someone says her name. M'gann or Zatanna. Maybe even Wally or Kaldur. She only absorbed the meaning of the words and not some superficial shit like pitch or tone or gender or which direction it came from.

Artemis ignores it.

She looks for Nightwing. A weight she didn’t know she was carrying vanishes, as soon as she sees him in a corner. Just as he was, scorch marks and various scratches on his face and suit, bandages over the worst of his burned fingers. No cape. No cowl.

A few steps, or a dozen, carry Artemis over and she puts her arms around his neck. Nightwing doesn’t quip, wail, murmur assurances, or shrug away, and somehow his complete failure to respond is worse than any of those. Artemis feels her eyes spill over, but the tears don’t soak into his armor. They just roll off the water-repellant fabric. Her own arm bears the onslaught. The bad hand, the one Robin cut on accident and Nightwing stitched back together. A year ago. She tried so hard to run from Gotham, but it bounces right back to her.

Nobody bothers them. No one even talks.

\- - -

**Notes:**

\- The title is from Bob Dylan’s song “The Times, They are a-Changin’”, which you may have noticed in a film called Watchmen. The opening quote is from Shakespeare’s 'Macbeth’, actually two bits of dialogue spliced together.

\- I used the map of Gotham drawn by Eliot R. Brown. Since it’s been stated that Gotham is similar to Manhattan, I set Gotham at about 35 miles long and 10 miles wide.

\- Judging from Wally’s run in 'Coldhearted’, his speed is about Mach 1 or 915 miles per hour. Unimpeded, Wally can run 35 miles in two minutes. However, Gotham is very densely populated with twisting roads–so when he said 30 seconds, it actually took longer.

\- Speaking of running time, the average warehouse is about 5000 feet. I split it in half, then converted the feet to metres. This made for about 275 meters. I rounded it to 200 meters, which Artemis ran in 11 seconds. That is twice as fast as the best time an Olympic athlete has ever run. But Artemis had adrenaline, and then a tail-wind from the explosion.

\- Bruce putting Jason back in civilian clothes comes out of the original 'A Death In The Family’ comic book.

\- The cape turning into a backpack was one of the things in The Dark Knight Saga. It was shown in the Hong Kong scene.

\- Clark dressed up as Batman in “Knight Time”, one of the Superman episodes.

\- I picked Renee Montoya because I figured Gordon would be busy with Clark!Batman and also because interrogation is a little easier with people of the same gender.

\- The Vietnamese lullaby is real. If you’ve read 'Here’s Looking At You, Boy Wonder’, the Vietnamese culture actually comes from all over the country. I was a little lax about this because Lawrence is 60 and still runs around, so they must have done some hell of a world tour when they were in their physical prime. And stuff circulates around any non-isolated region. But anyway, the lullaby cements Paula’s childhood in the southern countryside.

\- The tune Lawrence whistles is the very end of [Sitting on the Dock of the Bay](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Drd3rA89VhtA%23t%3D138s&t=ZTFiYzU1ZTVjYWZjZDlkMTk4NzE5NzNlZGYzMjA2ODU4ZmIxMmM1OCxhbzIwOW5uVg%3D%3D).


	2. Artemisia Absinthium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral. A meeting. A lot of unexpected people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a couple of scenes. I might even start on the next chapter, since I'm on break right now.

_He drove into my heart the arrows of his quiver; I have become the laughingstock of all peoples, the burden of their songs all day long. He has filled me with bitterness, he has sated me with wormwood._

\- - -

After a mandatory checkup, Artemis discovers why it is so hard for her to stand up straight. The explosion ruptured her eardrums and she will probably develop head pain, dizziness, and nausea over the next few weeks.

She and Nightwing are taken off duty for an unspecified while. Probably the rest of the summer. Artemis doesn’t enjoy being scrutinized like a bridge-jumper, but it does give her a convenient excuse to not go out. Not to Star City. Gotham is out of the question. She doesn’t want to know if people have noticed that Batman is acting different. She doesn’t want to go out and do shit while everyone else hurries around her. And since she’s on vacation, she doesn’t have anywhere else to be.

She throws her ripped jeans in a corner and digs out a somewhat nicer pair.

For the first time since Artemis got back, Nightwing disappears into his room, and comes out the door wearing civilian clothes. Navy slacks and a white shirt, blue leather jacket, sunglasses.

Artemis can’t even appreciate how handsome he is. Because the first time she sees him in the edge of her vision, his glasses gape like eyeless sockets. Even when she corrects herself and looks at him straight on, her skin tingles like bugs are crawling all over it.

It’s only been twenty minutes since she changed, but Artemis heads to the shower. She leans, after a few moments becoming entirely encased in sound and heat and the drum of water on her shoulders, like a portal to some rain-covered world where she doesn’t have to deal with shit like her ex's little brother and dad died practically in front of them.

Suddenly Zatanna is there, shaking her, which makes Artemis feel really dizzy. All she can hear is vague mush, like Zee’s casting a spell in another room.

Zatanna probably was casting a spell, since some tissue appears in her hand. She slides a hand behind Artemis’ head and rolls the corner into a point, then soaks the water out of Artemis’ ears. Artemis can hear again, but the dizziness doesn’t go away.

“You were supposed to cover your head,” Zatanna says. She flicks the cotton into the trash. “Ruptured eardrums, remember? Can’t get water on them until they’re better.”

“Oh. Right.”

“And…” Zatanna frowns. “Never mind. Yrd ffo Simetra’ sehtolc.”

\- - -

How Artemis ended up across the desk from Black Canary is irrelevant.

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Artemis says at once. “Can I… go on a mission?”

“We can’t let you do that.” Artemis hadn’t really expected she’d get her way. “Both you and Nightwing have been through a lot. You’re not physically fit, and your mental states have been severely compromised.”

Artemis is sixteen again, after the simulation where there was a bright flash of light and then–she was in the training room, alive. Artemis shakes her head and she is nineteen again. She doesn’t know how old Robin was, exactly. “Please, can I just do something?”

Maybe it was the ‘please’ that did it. Black Canary stands up and takes her to the training room. Unfortunately, it turns out 'no duty’ and 'no physical strain’ were more suitable doctor’s orders than Artemis wanted. The ruptured eardrums do nothing for balance. Artemis’ knees keep buckling. And her bad hand twinges something fierce, so her fists are loose and any flat handed strikes are ginger. After ten minutes, Artemis gives up.

“Okay, fine. Fine! I can’t… It’s stupid to put me on a mission right now.”

“Remember that this is not permanent.” Black Canary takes her by the shoulder and steers her back to the therapy room. “You can recover as long as you’re willing to talk about it.”

Back across the desk, Artemis stares blankly, trying to form words with her numb mouth. Black Canary throws a hook out there. “M'gann said she was calling you through the mindlink earlier today, but you didn’t answer. Zatanna went to find you.”

“Oh.” It’s not Black Canary’s fault that Artemis can’t talk. She's not a good talker at the best of times.

“Did you hear Zatanna or M'gann?”

“No.” Did she? “I mean… I don’t remember.”

“You were in there for a long time. They were worried about you.”

“No, I just liked it. Taking a shower makes me feel better sometimes.”

Black Canary observes her carefully, then says, “You still had all of your clothes on.”

Artemis gives up.

\- - -

“Mi mas sentido pesar, Nightwing.”

Artemis walks into the living room with a glass of water and no real plans, only to see a bunch of strangers circling the couch. There are several reasons for this, such as the fact that she still doesn’t know the new people’s names. And she probably forgot a few of the people who were already introduced. But on a closer look, Artemis has a moment of crisis.

Bad: They are not teenaged heroes, or unknown League members, but full-grown criminals from Gotham.

Worse: They are surrounding Nightwing.

Worse than that: Nightwing is still not in uniform.

Worst of all: Nightwing is not paying attention.

As Artemis drops her glass, they look up at her. “ _Black Canary!_ ”

“Artemis,” comes a velvety murmur. Heels tap, and Catwoman glides out of the crowd with an outstretched hand. “It’s all right. You don’t have to call the League on us. Although we are flattered.”

“Do not worry, child.” That–-is that Ra’s al Ghul? What are they all doing here? He steps in front of everyone and his cape swishes. Artemis preemptively jerks her face away from Catwoman and steps back from Ra’s al Ghul.

“What are you all doing here? How the fuck do you know my _name?!_ ”

“We’re offering our condolences,” Two Face tells her. “You little bitch.”

“Are you not the younger daughter of Huntress and Sportsmaster?” Ra’s al Ghul asks.

“No!” Artemis says. What is she saying? It’s pointless to lie to criminals. “I mean–yes, but–what are–how did–why are there so many of you? Here? Is this a plan?”

“No plan,” comes a muffled voice from within an ice-containment helmet

“I had to get everyone in,” Catwoman says. “Or, out of wherever they were, and here.”

The Spanish accent from before continues. Bane. “I do not enjoy the deaths of children.”

“Nor do I,” Freeze continues.

The green top hat of the Riddler surfaces over Catwoman’s shoulder. “The Joker asked me for advice on hints and fake hints. I didn’t know what for. I wouldn’t have told him if I had.”

“I am responsible for the entire matter,” Ra’s al Ghul says.

Artemis chooses to ignore everyone. She didn’t really want to know, anyway. It was just small talk. “But why? Why feel sorry for Batman?”

They all look at each other, and Talia steps forth. “Let me tell you something. When Batman first appeared, we thought he was one of us.”

“He’s arrested every single one of you!” Artemis yells. “Some of you are still supposed to be in prison from the last time!”

They burst into laughter. Artemis searches for something hard to throw. Maybe the TV. Not at Ra’s. Even if she killed him, he’d only be dead for a little while. Scarecrow–

Artemis freezes.

Something is keeping Ra’s al Ghul alive.

“The Bat never lets the League into Gotham,” Catwoman says. “That sounds an awful lot like a criminal, if you don’t know he’s actually part of it.”

“We have all arrested each other at least once,” Bane says. “It is certainly frustrating, but not the worst.”

“And the Batman never did the worst.” Ra’s explains. “You are a Gotham child. What is easier to believe, coming from where we have? In somebody with such a strong moral code that they would not kill even their worst enemy? Or, in somebody with their own agenda who did not wish to repel future colleagues?”

It was a bad idea to start questioning villains, especially if you’re on the other side. Or supposed to be. They make so much sense sometimes.

“It wasn’t till Gordon started working with him that we realized the Bat was against us,” Scarecrow says. “All of us.”

“We felt betrayed, of course,” Talia says. “But, what is a little more betrayal among criminals?”

“Nightwing!” Artemis snaps. “Wake the fuck up!”

“So rude,” Catwoman says. She sits down on the couch next to Nightwing. Artemis bristles as the thief puts a hand on Nightwing’s shoulder. “But she doesn’t mean it, pretty bird. She’s rattled. We know she was there, too.”

“How?!”

Manicured nails and skin pampered with sandalwood lotion do not do much to hide working muscle. Not when the owner has taken Artemis’ hand in a firm grip. Talia al Ghul says, “Word has it that a girl named Sasha witnessed the blast.”

Artemis yanks away and waves in a random direction. “Get out. All of you! At least four people have escaped from different prisons, and the rest of you helped! That’s plenty of reason for the League!” They don’t even look offended. It makes Artemis want to rip her own teeth out.

“Come along, then.” Ra’s al Ghul leads the way out by the zeta beams, cape fluttering. The _zeta beams!_ Is anywhere safe? “And believe me when I say this, Arrowette: Fare well.”

“Shut up and–-” Artemis stops. “Arrowette?”

“Your working name,” Ra’s says. “In Star City–-”

“Just leave!” Artemis yells. Then she remembers what she thought about Ra's al Ghul, and runs up before he steps over the threshold. “Wait. Wait, no–- _wait!_ I’m sorry–-Ra’s al Ghul, please–-please tell me something!”

He’d already stopped moving. “Yes?”

“Would it–-would your secret work on Robin?”

Immediately after she asks this, she knows. Something which keeps someone alive, no matter how mystical or rare, won’t necessarily bring someone back from the dead. To add insult to injury, everyone looks sad. Artemis wants to rip everyone else’s teeth out, too.

“Oh, child.” Ra’s al Ghul touches her shoulder, and Artemis shrugs him off. “Il mo'men musaab.”

“What?” It’s probably a no. A long-winded, poetic no.

“There are thousands of reasons why it should not work for Robin,” Talia says. “And within the possibility that it does work, there are even more thousands of reasons that it should go wrong. My father has survived perhaps three hundred of them personally.”

“Fine! Whatever!”

Artemis sits down on the couch as bright light flashes, but no automated voice occurs. They probably messed with the cameras, too. She sits next to Nightwing and pinches the bridge of her nose. Scrubs her eyes a bit. “Some good you were.”

“The righteous always suffer,” Nightwing says.

“No shit, detective.”

“That’s what 'il mo'men musaab’ means.”

Artemis gets up. “I need air.”

“Artemis.”

“Or not.”

Nightwing stands. “There’s going to be…” He swallows. “A funeral. In a little over a week. Do you want to go?”

Does she?

\- - -

Artemis tells everyone she’s going to see her mother. Her mother says she's going to the funeral.

Paula tells Artemis that she should cover her hair at the funeral. Apparently, that’s what people with light hair do. Not for the first time in her life, Artemis wishes she wasn’t blonde. She reminds herself to ask her mother how that happened, exactly. Then she puts her hair in the tightest, neatest bun she can manage, and decides it will probably work.

Bruce Wayne is not there, either as an attendant or as the focus of a double burial. No one tells Artemis why. Artemis has no intention on asking. Especially not after she sees a tall black-haired man with broad shoulders, and an ugly moment of fear twists her insides. Then the man turns around to reveal Clark Kent, in owlish glasses and a hat that his father might have worn.

Anyway, Wayne is injured, Artemis remembers. He wouldn’t be able to stand. Or allowed to. She remembers the vague, air-headed man who'd granted her a scholarship and forgotten her name.

Dick stands at the gate of Wayne Manor, wearing black, black, and more black. Black gloves, to hide his injuries. Even his shirt is black. If he was blond, it would have ruined the effect. An old man in a crisper suit stands beside him with a black handkerchief, and the flash of motion makes Artemis cringe. He is Alfred, the butler. She walks past them, wheeling her mother onto the luxurious stretches of grass. Dick leaves off greeting people to usher them up a gently sloped pathway, asking if they would like to be in the front.

Paula shakes her head. “I didn’t know your brother. Don’t worry too much.”

Lots of people are here. Some of them are too old to be Robin’s (Jason’s) friends, or even Dick’s friends. And some of them look too official to be Wayne’s friends–never making eye contact with Dick or the old man, wearing too-slick suits and dresses. Probably paparazzi. There is at least one reporter: the aforementioned Clark Kent. He has his cuffs buttoned, tie straight, and everything ironed. But old clothes settle into their creases as soon as the wearer takes a breath. Kent’s already have a vague air of rumpled-ness. He seems legitimately anguished, not hawking on the funeral like the others, so Artemis trusts him more.

There's another, older, unassuming figure in a worn out suit, and a black trenchcoat that has seen better days. Next to him is a shorter, curvier figure in a black cap–probably his daughter. Artemis doesn’t recognize them when they wave, and she only waves back out of instinct. When a lock of red hair escapes from under the hat (damn it, Paula was right), Artemis finally recognizes Barbara Gordon--and the Commissioner.

Artemis grabs Dick’s arm. “You didn’t tell me Gordon would be here!”

“We… we invited them, Artemis. I mean, it’s Babs. And of course her dad would–”

“I can’t talk to him!”

“You don't have to,” Dick says. He tugs his arm, politely, out of her frantic grasp, and points. “Look, there’s Babs. We can talk to her instead.”

“I just, I’m–”

“Con gái!” Paula says. She goes on in Vietnamese. “You’re embarrassing us.”

Artemis pulls herself together, which mostly involves crossing her arms and jabbing her fingers into her elbows.

Whether she avoids eye contact or not, Artemis can’t help the fact that the Commissioner is walking over to her and Babs is swerving towards Dick, so she can’t ask Babs to help her out until they’re finished. Stupid librarian.

“Hello,” the Commissioner says.

“Hello… sir.”

“Artemis, was it? I heard you’re going to Princeton now.”

“Yeah, I…” Artemis pretends she left off on purpose and looks at Paula…’s retreating back. Where is her mom going, exactly?

The Commissioner is persistent. He glances at her mother, too, but keeps talking to Artemis. “How’s your mother?”

“She’s fine, sir. Very happy that I’m in Ivy League.”

“Very happy would be an understatement, I think.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You seem sad, sweetheart,” he says. Artemis knows that people don’t get to be Commissioner in Gotham by being stupid, but does he have to be so observant? “Did you know Jason well?”

“I… I went to school with Dick… and Babs. I didn’t…” Artemis looks down. “Not really. Every now and then, I guess.”

Does getting her hand cut open count? Do four doctor appointments count? Impromptu mentoring when people said she was the only one who could handle him? She said happy birthday, for no reason other than feeling a little guilty, was that some sort of… bonding thing? Artemis fidgets with a few stray strands of hair. She wishes she’d brought a hat or a scarf or something.

“You lived with your mother up north, before college. Right?”

“Yes. I’m here for the summer, so…” Artemis doesn’t know where this conversation is going. Is he going to ask about her mother again? Paula has disappeared into the crowd, as wheelchair-bound people tend to do. Artemis tries searching desperately for her mother while not stepping any closer to the Commissioner or making it obvious that she's doing either.

Then, someone dressed entirely in white appears between Babs and Dick. Over his shoulder, Artemis can only see a wide hat with a ribbon tied under her chin, like a Southern belle. It hides her hair, but there are large dark eyes and deep red lipstick underneath the brim of the hat. It would be distasteful if she didn't seem just as sad as Dick.

The lady touches a gloved hand to Dick’s jaw. In the other hand, she offers Dick a bouquet filled with pale flowers that Artemis doesn’t recognize: tall sprays of white, silver, and gold, short green stems with drooping white heads, silky white bells, and barely visible tiny yellow ones. It looks like jewelry made with plant matter.

“You sweet thing,” the lady says, with no Southern accent. She sounds familiar. “I’m so sorry.”

“Um,” Dick says faintly. The Commissioner turns and seems curious too.

“Selina. Bruce knows me. And I knew Jason, even before he took up with Bruce. I liked him, but I’m not the mothering type. I’m going to miss him.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kyle.”

“I’m not married.” She tilts her head towards the flowers, and Dick takes them in the crook of his arm.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t…” Dick looks at the gate, where people are still filtering in steadily. “I should get back and help Alfred out. See you later, Babs. Miss Kyle.” He heads back to the gate, looking like a poet with the white flower poking out over his black suit shoulder.

For someone wearing white at a funeral, Selina disappears into the crowd pretty fast.

Before Artemis can follow the mystery woman’s example, Gordon sighs and resumes the conversation. Damn it. This is where Babs got the determination to get a master’s for glorified book shelving.

“It’s in the news already, but you probably heard this big explosion at Cape Carmine.” Not probably. “That’s where we found poor Jason.”

Poor! Of all the damn words in the English language! Artemis would rather have the Commissioner talk about her mother. She’s used to being uncomfortable about that, and at least then she would be able to pass the buck. “Oh.”

“There was only one eyewitness. One of my people, Renee Montoya questioned her.”

“And what exactly does this have to do with me?” Everything. She knows that Gordon knows, and Gordon knows that she knows that he knows–

“Maybe it was these old glasses, but she had some long blonde hair that looked like yours–”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about, sir.”

A moment passes. Artemis wants to rip her hair out. Or cut it off or something. She settles for digging her nails into her forearms through her black leather jacket.

“All right.” The Commissioner pats her shoulder.

Really? Artemis had expected him to keep grilling her. What kind of person doesn’t keep grilling someone who’s just told a paper-thin lie? That’s like finding a twenty and not picking it up.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Artemis stares at the Commissioner and his glasses and gray hair and bites her tongue. It’s not a good way to keep from crying outright, just from being loud about it.

“Artemis,” comes Babs’ voice, a little older but still familiar. “Are you okay?”

“Hey, Babs.” Artemis wipes her eyes. Her mouth is numb. “Long time no see. You–” Filled out, are wearing funeral clothes, complete with funeral hat and old lady pumps with a low heel that are far from Barbara’s usual fare. “Look different. I didn’t recognize you.”

“You’re back from Princeton, I hear.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you know him? Jason?”

“I…” Tried saving the world a couple of times with him. “Ran into him every now and then. He seemed…” Rough around the edges but even she was surprised when he turned out okay in the… end… “Like a great kid.”

“You’re crying,” Babs says. She hugs Artemis. It’s a little too much like M'gann and Artemis can’t stop. “It’s okay.”

\- - -

Now she’s in the hall of Mount Justice just outside the training room.

Why is Nightwing holding her hand?

Why is he tapping something in Morse Code on her hand?

“What are you doing?” Artemis asks.

“I thought you couldn’t hear me.”

Artemis yanks her hand away. “Well, I can.” Mostly. “What the hell were you trying to say?”

“Superman’s calling the team up. Come on.”

It's the first mission since... But Artemis feels no urge to go out and no one's lifted the order for them to stay. "Why are _we_ getting de-briefed?"

"Technically..." He grins. "We're not."

Artemis grins.

"Here." He gives her a pair of chunky, odd-looking black headphones attached to a little radio. Artemis puts them on, and flicks the switch, but hears nothing.

"What's this?"

He pauses. "Police-grade amplifier that works on any ambient noise within thirty yards."

"A hearing aid." Nightwing sighs as Artemis snaps, "I am _not_ wearing hearing aids!"

She rips off the headphones and throws them on the ground. Then she heads to her room and fishes out a hand-mirror so she can read lips. When she comes out, Nightwing is wearing them himself. Right--he was at the blast site too. She edges to his side and keeps a sharp lookout. On impulse, she takes his arm and they start strolling.

"I can't believe they won't let us in on it," Artemis mutters. They duck behind the corner as a straggler enters the hall. "We can't leave. It's not like we're going to snitch."

"Protocol, protocol." He's forgiven her for throwing the glorified hearing aid, but it was probably designed to take a beating. "Anyway, they said they were going to tell us later--"

"They're just going to water it down."

"--and if that's the case, why wait?"

Artemis laughs. She feels better than ever having some portion of control over her life. And Nightwing is acting like Robin again, but that's way better than his tragic, empty shell act.

In the hall outside the debriefing room, Artemis sees a flicker of green and ducks behind a corner; Nightwing follows on instinct. She points to Garfield, fluttering around as a tiny bird. After a pass or two, he flies through the door of the debriefing room and changes back into a boy. Artemis flicks her mirror open, but then realizes most of the team is facing away from the door. Reading lips is useless. She sighs and puts her mirror away. Nightwing hooks up a set of earphones and she, grudgingly, puts them on. A glance reveals a shitfaced grin and she swats his shoulder.

"--not even the vents."

"Good," Superman says. "Thank you, Beast Boy. I wanted to make sure--"

Nightwing raises an eyebrow and taps on her shoulder in Morse Code:  _Weird._

She's rusty, but she manages. _Yeah, I could see this from Batman. What's with the Boy Scout being paranoid?_

Superman brings out a small radio and says, "Come in."

There's a flash of the zeta beams, and someone smaller than Superman enters. "Team," the man of steel says. "After much deliberation with the League, we've decided to recruit this member." He stands aside with a little awkward shuffle, like he’s introducing someone else’s kid.

That is entirely understandable once Artemis sees who it is. Wearing gray, black, the Bat symbol and even a cowl… but long red hair and a familiar voice saying, “Hi. I’m Batgirl.”

" _What the fuck?!_ " Artemis yanks the earbuds out and throws them down, then strides through the doorway with her hands in fists. They make eye contact and Batgirl quavers in surprise. Either at Artemis, or at the aggression. Or both. Nightwing stays hidden, like a coward.

"Artemis!" someone says. "How did you--"

Or, is this another part of **the plan**? Maybe, at the funeral--when he was talking to Babs--

Artemis’ blood freezes. Then it boils.

“Ar-–” The girl in the bat suit stops herself, before the beginning of a T is too obvious. She tries a lighter tone. “Aren’t we supposed to have costumes–-”

“You think that’s _funny?_ ” Artemis snarls. And Batgirl flinches, openly, like no trained Bat would ever do. Most of the younger team members flinch, too. She doesn't care.

Kaldur attempts to diffuse the bomb in the room. “Apologies--Artemis is--”

"How _dare_ you wear that suit--after everything that's happened!" Someone grabs Artemis' arm and she bats them aside. "How could you even _think_ \--"

“Artemis, calm _down!_ ” Superman tells her. "This is why--"

“Nightwing!” Artemis shouts. “Is there some other contingency plan that we don’t know about?”

“No!” His voice pitches. “This isn’t it-–Artemis, I don't know why she's here! I don’t know how she got that suit!” He's crying. Artemis realizes that he wouldn't have gone all through this effort to eavesdrop if he'd known all along what was going to happen. She feels ashamed of herself.

“I didn’t mean to upset anyone,” Batgirl whispers, almost too low for Artemis to hear.

Intentions, the road to hell is paved with good. Artemis thinks of a lot of things she could say--biting, horrible things, like _do you think you're fooling anyone, librarian? Go back to your books before you die like Robin_ \--and decides she's said enough. She bites her tongue and stares at her own crossed arms. They go blurry and something hot drips onto her wrist.

Where is Batman, anyway?

"It's all right, Batgirl," Superman says.

A flicker of blue in the corner of her vision makes Artemis flinch. But it’s just M'gann’s cape.

“Artemis,” Kaldur says. “Miss Martian will take you to your room to calm down.”

As M'gann firmly steers Artemis to her room, saying soothing words in Martian, Artemis struggles hard enough to stay within eavesdropping distance, but just below the point where M'gann will need to call backup.

“Team, we apologize." Aqualad is shaken, in his own stoic way. "This was not supposed to happen."

"We had specifically informed them not to attend this debriefing," Superman goes on. He fixes his gaze on Artemis. "We were going to tell you two _in private._ "

“Artemis is a senior member of the team and she is not normally this…” Artemis knows that Kaldur’s thinking up several words and discarding them. “Volatile. She and Nightwing are still recovering from the last mission. They are not returning to active duty until they are judged mentally and physically uncompromised.”

That word again.

Batgirl’s voice, barely audible. “Can I ask what–-”

Artemis shrugs off M'gann and goes to her room by her own damn self. M'gann follows anyway.

\- - -

Artemis throws something in a random direction and the mirror happens to shatter.

\- - -

M'gann throws open the door. She makes eye contact with a worried look, and for some reason gets even more worried when Artemis raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Artemis asks.

M'gann stares harder, and meaningfully.

“It’s _my_ mirror,” Artemis says.

M'gann takes Artemis’ arm, with some telekinetic strength behind it, and drags Artemis down a familiar hallway to the therapy room where she will probably wait for Black Canary.

“You’re making a big fucking deal out of nothing. Maybe I just tripped.” In the middle of the room. All the way into the wall. Yeah.

\- - -

“M'gann told me you didn’t respond when she tried using the mind link. Several times.”

“Oh.” Come to think of it, she hasn’t heard anyone on the mind link. For a while. But there really wasn’t a reason for someone off-duty to use it, so she hadn’t thought too much about it. “Is that why she’s so worried?”

“She also told me you broke your mirror.” People are just not going to let her live that down, are they? It was ten whole minutes ago. “I know that Batgirl just arrived. M'gann told me about that, too. Why are you so angry at her?”

The cape turned into a backpack and spared Nightwing from a life of brooding. But she never learned what happened to that armor, either. Where the Other Batman’s suit came from. Maybe… Maybe the League planned this and not Nightwing.

“Artemis?”

“What?”

“Why are you so angry at Batgirl?”

“Not at her.” Not at Babs. “She seems nice.” She was friends with Babs in high school. They hugged at Robin’s funeral. “I was just… Just mad.” (We’re all mad, quoth the Cheshire.)

“What about Nightwing?”

“I don’t know.” Artemis hugs herself. “At first I was mad because I thought he planned this, and then it turned out he didn’t plan it, and that was even worse. Now even he doesn’t know what’s happening and I made him cry for nothing. Being nice is hard.”

“You were nice to Nightwing right after you came back from the Gotham mission,” Black Canary points out.

“I know. I don’t know why I can’t just go back to that.”

“You don’t have to act like M'gann. Kaldur doesn’t.”

“Yeah, but–” Artemis tries to ignore her running nose. “I can’t even act like myself to keep from… being an asshole.” She made Nightwing cry. She’s horrible at this hero thing.

“It’s normal to feel like you have lost control, but it is not your responsibility to help Nightwing.”

“What… why not?”

“Because you were there. You’re the one who needs help.”

\- - -

“Hi.” Whether Batgirl has the ninja thing going on is not something Artemis can judge right now. Right now, Artemis can only assume that Black Canary’s ushered her out of the hallway and it has been less than an hour since she was standing there. “I heard–-”

“Yeah, well, whatever they told you, I don’t care. I’m sorry for being a bitch to you. It’s just, I’m not good at surprises at the best of times. And now’s–-”

“The worst of times?”

Where has she heard that? “Yeah, I guess. I…” Artemis sighs. “Sorry. Batgirl. Can we… still… be friends?”

“Yeah. Of course. What’s your alias?”

“Artemis.”

An awkward pause ensues. But, Batgirl takes it like a champ and asks, “So, what do you do?”

“Archery. I’m Green Arrow’s sidekick.”

“All the way in Star City, huh?”

“Not that bad with the zeta beams.”

“Kaldur said... You saw what happened with the Joker. I’m sorry that happened.”

“I didn’t really _see_ him die,” Artemis says, and wipes her eyes. “Robin.”

“But you were there.” Batgirl puts a hand on her shoulder. “Most people would think that counts for something.”

Why is everyone being so nice to her after she just fucked up their day?

"Oh, right," Batgirl says. "Superman called us, and Nightwing. To talk about... the meeting."

There it is.

Artemis wants beer.

 


End file.
